Honestly
by Irish84
Summary: I'm sure you've seen this before. HermioneOliver pairing when they're older and teachers at Hogwarts. My first fic so please be gentle. Chapters 1 & 2 up.
1. We need a new flying instructor!

_Honestly_

Chapter 1

"Oh honestly! You'd think they'd have a decent flying instructor in this bloody place!" Hermione Granger fretted as she handed the first year a potion to relieve his concussion, "Second flying-related injury this morning. Bloody ridiculous."

The first year stared as she ranted and a small laugh escaped his lips.

"You think it's funny, do you? You might have died you know," Hermione told him, "Now, you sit here. Don't move or I'll keep you in here until next week, don't think I won't."

As she bustled off to check on the other patients, she mentally reminded herself that she must speak with Dumbledore about a new flying instructor.

"Madam Granger?" A small voice asked from the doorway. A flustered Hermione spun around midway through a particularly strong cleansing spell.

"Yes yes, I'm here. What's happened...Hannah Mott is it?" Hermione asked kindly, beckoning the small girl towards her.

"Yes," The girl whispered, "I've broken my arm, Madam Mackenzie has told me."

"Did she send anyone along to accompany you?" Hermione asked, as she swiftly inspected the arm in question and led the small first year to a bed.

"Well no," Hannah told her, "She asked if I knew where the hospital wing was and after I'd told her that I did, she sent me on my way. Said I only needed an escort if I didn't know where it was."

"Oh really?" Hermione replied, in a more rhetorical way. She shot the potion out of her wand so fast it splashed out of the goblet and trickled down to the floor and made Hannah jump.

"Oh blast it. That woman is going to make me nutters," Hermione mumbled, as she filled a new goblet with potion. Speaking louder this time she said, "Drink up, and rest here until I return to release you."

Sticking her head out into the hallway, she yelled to the boy about 100 meters down.

You! Yes, you there. Come here please," She called, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for the boy, a first or a second year by the looks of him, to trot down the corridor.

"Yes Madam Granger?" The boy, whom Hermione now recognized as Evan MacGregor, a third year, asked.

"Could you please ask Professor McGonagall to fetch Dumbledore? I would do it myself, but I am rather busy at the moment," Hermione asked, stepping back inside the hospital wing and shutting the door.

"Bloody bonkers that woman is," Evan mumbled, turning to go tell McGonagall but instead bumping into Dumbledore.

"Well Mr. MacGregor, I would hope you don't speak so highly of me when I'm not around. To class, Evan, now," Dumbledore, breezing by an open-mouthed Evan, and going inside the infirmary. Seconds later there were several crashes that could have only been bedpans hitting the floor and wall.

"Honestly Dumbledore, I'm going to be in St. Mungo's by the end of day if you don't get that wretched woman out of here. Three injuries today from first years falling of their brooms, which makes...16 this week," Hermione said, exasperatedly. "It's got to stop."

"Yes Hermione, I agree," Dumbledore paused, "Which is why the new flying instructor will be here on Tuesday, and flying lessons are suspended until then."

"I honestly hope this person is more qualified because Karleen is a smashing person and all but couldn't teach a broom to fly if she tried," Hermione said, bending to pick up the various medical supplies that had been flung about during her earlier tantrum.

"Oh, he is," Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles, "You might remember him from your Hogwarts, though he graduated in your third year. His name is Oliver Wood."

"Oh, that pompous thing. Isn't he some big Quidditch star nowadays for Puddlewhatsits or something?" She asked.

"He was," Dumbledore face fell a bit, "But that is his story to tell, not mine. Good day Ms. Granger." Dumbledore disappeared out of the hospital wing, leaving Hermione Granger alone with her thoughts and three flying-related injured children.

What do you think? Any reviews appreciated, but not flames so much. Hope you liked it.

-Irish84-


	2. The new flying instructor

_Honestly_

Chapter 2

The next morning found Hermione, cranky as ever, sitting at the Staff table, toying with her breakfast of ham and eggs. The seat next to her was empty and would be until Oliver Wood's arrival on Tuesday. Though it was Saturday, there was no Quidditch match today, on account of half of the teams were injured from their Advanced Flying classes. Karleen had found her last night in her study, as she was finishing letters to Ron and Harry.

"Hermione, I've just been sacked. Dumbledore said I just wasn't the right person for the job. Now I'm out of a job, and I've only got a few Galleons to me name," Karleen, an old friend, rushed in, all in a fluster.

"Calm down, you'll give yourself a boil if you keep fluttering all around like that. Sit down, have some tea," Hermione used her full body weight to push her friend into an armchair and handed her a cup of tea, "Now, you should get a carriage into Hogsmeade. I've give you a few Galleons to stay at the Hog's Head tonight, and tomorrow you should fly into London and look for a job in Diagon Alley. I think that Madam Malkin's might be looking for someone to hire."

"Yes yes, I want to go now. I feel unwelcome in this castle now that I've been removed from me position," Karleen stood stiffly, hurt displayed across her face, and set her teacup on the side table. She briefly hugged Hermione, who gave her some Galleons, and left.

Hermione sighed and finished her breakfast. She felt almost two-faced, being so concerned for Karleen's welfare even though it was her fault she was out of a job. She stood up, and headed to the hospital wing. For once, it was empty, and she still had those letters to Ron and Harry to finish from last night. Just as she sat at her desk, she noticed a lone carriage was rolling up the hill, kicking up a large cloud of dust.

'Well well, Mr. Wood has arrived early" She thought, settling down to finish her letters.

Half an hour later, Dumbledore's voice could be heard drifting down the hallway.

"And here is the Transfiguration rooms. And here is the Defense Against the Dark Arts rooms. And oh yes, the Hospital Wing," He gave a short knock and strode in.

"Hermione, this is.." Dumbledore began.

"Oliver Wood, I know," Hermione replied, standing to shake his hand.

"Ermm do I know you?" Oliver asked, his head tilted to one side. He had grown his hair longer, to a shaggy length.

"Well you did once, but the question, is do you remember me?" Hermione said with a smile, "I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger."

Oliver's face was blank for a moment, then realization dawned on him. "Oh you're Potter's friend. Blimey, you've changed."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Hermione said, returning to her desk and sitting down.

"Well Oliver I suppose we should move on to the rest of the castle." Dumbledore turned and left the Wing.

"Hermione?" Oliver asked quietly. "What I meant was, you look smashing. Truly." He turned and jogged after Dumbledore.

"Thanks Wood," Hermione whispered, as she sealed her letters. After tying them to her owl, Pegasus's foot, she realized she was rather famished and set off to the Great Hall for supper.

As she stepped into the Great Hall, she realized that the entire school had beaten her here there, and everyone was staring as she made her way to the Staff table. A slight blush crept up her neck to her face, as she pulled out her chair and sat down.

"You know, it's rather attractive when you do that..." Wood commented nonchalantly as he filled his plate.

"Oh honestly. When I do what?" Hermione asked crossly, spooning some carrots onto her plate.

"You know, blush and get all embarrassed. Rarr," Oliver jokily made a purring noise.

"Shut it," Hermione said, focusing all of her attention on her dinner.

"So Wood, where is Medora this evening?" McGonagall asked from Hermione's other side.

"In my chambers. Kieran is with her, because she isn't feeling well," Oliver said, "I'm going to go check on her after dinner is finished."

"Well, tell her I said Hello. Also, Ms. Granger here might be able to help you with your dilemma," McGonagall replied.

"Alright then, well Hermione, could you think of any responsible sixth or seventh years that might have some free time in the evenings? I need to find someone to watch Medora so I can monitor Quidditch practices." Oliver said, looking pleadingly at Hermione.

"Who's Medora?" Hermione asked, feeling completely out of the loop.

"My daughter, she's 3," Oliver said.

"Well why can't your wife do it?" Hermione asked, rather coldly. She was still angered by his earlier teasing.

"I wish more than anything in the world that she could, but she's dead," Oliver said, "I'm not too hungry anymore. I'm going to my chambers."

"Oliver, wait, I'm so sorry. I didn't know," Hermione said quietly, but he never even looked back as he stride angrily out of the Great Hall.

You likey? Should I bother to continue?

-Irish84-


End file.
